Rock, Rattle, Roll
by stareagle
Summary: Grissom’s day of entomological field work has disastrous consequences, prompting each member of his team to rely on what he has taught each of them.  As they try to cope with their concern for his wellbeing, they are challenged to solve a sinister mystery
1. Chapter 1

**Rock, Rattle and Roll by Stareagle **

**Chapter 1**

"Daddy, I have to go now, I can't wait"

"Jeremy, we'll be home in a little while, can't you…"

"Paul, pull over, it will just take a moment."

The door slammed shut as the child took off from the car, running about 10 feet away. Noticing a curious mound in the otherwise flat terrain, he aimed for it, with relief. He watched in fascination as the mound suddenly became dotted with moving spots, moving a few steps closer as he finished his business. Suddenly swarms of the moving spots made their way toward him, sparking his curiosity. He leaned to get a better look, as the edge of the moving finally reached him, realizing he had never seen ants like this. Impulsively, he put his finger down to capture one and several climbed aboard the digit. Bringing it closer to his face, he didn't notice several had climbed on his shoe, making their way up his leg until he felt a stinging sensation on his finger. Shaking his hand in surprise, he took a step to squash them, and was shocked as the dots started to climb on his bare leg, stinging as he went.

"Jeremy, hurry up!" exclaimed his mother as he turned to run back to the car, shaking his feet in an awkward frantic dance. "Stop fooling around, let's get… Jeremy, what?"

His howl of pain shocked her into action, springing from the car to the wailing child, scooping him into her arms. Turning to return she was aware of painful biting sensations as dots from the child moved to her bare arms. Meanwhile, Rocky, the family dog had escaped through open door, bounding up to them and yipping in excitement.

"Rocky, come…" shouted Paul in frustration as he opened his door in frustration, and then alarm as he realized something was wrong. Barely hold the screaming squirming child, his wife was trying to swat at something on Jeremy and then herself as she turned to run back to the car. Rocky's playful barks turned into yelps of pain as he instinctively sat to scratch, and then leaped up frantically shaking his body.

"Betty what the hell?" and now he realized they had tiny little ants on their arms and legs. Jeremy's face was getting red, and blotchy little spots were forming on his arms and legs. Ignoring Rocky's frantic yelps, he rushed to meet his wife and son, grabbing him as she finally lost her grip. The little dots climbed to his wrist and then he understood. They ran back to the car, and he threw the child and then his wife in through the open door, slamming it behind them. Brushing the few insects that had clung to him off, he raced to his side, slammed the car in gear letting the inertia of the forward motion close the door.

Sometimes he really enjoyed being out of the office. Today had been one of those days- a chance to work with NV State Entomologist, and Agriculturalist, on the new strain of fire ants that had claimed the life of a family dog and disrupted the social plans of several visitors to Lake Mead's shores. The potency of the new strain was frightening. The mound they found on the north side of Lake Mead had not been that large, but the numbers and aggressiveness of these ants had been intense. Jay was going to email the results of his tests, but it was clear that a new strain was evolving, meaner than its predecessor. Gil hoped the new strain would never make its way to more populated areas, shuddering to think what such ants would do to a child or even an adult who unwittingly disturbed the innocuous looking mound. Fire ants were not natives to the desert; he was sure the new strain had been deliberately transported to the area but baffled by the intent.

Glancing at the dashboard clock, he realized he was going to be cutting it close to get to work on time tonight. The cutoff to 147 would save him miles even though he couldn't go as fast, but the traffic would be minimal, so he opted for the shortcut. The desert beauty and solitude was as soothing as the classical piano music on his CD. Cresting a slight rise, he focused on the lights of Vegas, glimmering in the distance, belatedly noticing the shadow of a wash on the right side. The front tire barely caught the edge as he swung the steering wheel to the left, but the rear tire thumped a little more deeply into it – jarring the vehicle and spiking an adrenaline rush. A few moments later, the tug of the wheel and thud – thud – thud from the rear informed him the right rear tire had not fared well in the encounter.

Pulling to the far side of the narrow apron on the road, he stopped to survey the damage. "Damn! Where's Warrick when I need him?" He grumbled, realizing that the spare was going to be required. Looking in the rear of the packed Denali, he gave an exasperated sigh and started unloading his kit and several boxes of supplies he had picked up earlier that day in order to access the jack and the spare. Glancing again at the dashboard clock, he realized he was going to be late and reached for his cell. "Damn…. No reception?" Well at least Catherine was on tonight too, and would hand out assignments if he were more than 15 minutes overdue.

Giving a frustrated impatient tug, the spare sprang suddenly from his grip, bouncing up into his right hand jamming his index finger. Bouncing on the pavement, it rolled off the side of the road, bouncing for another 20 feet before flopping along side of a large rock. Thoroughly disgusted and grabbing his throbbing finger, Gil didn't hesitate to hop down off the apron and skirt the wash, which had claimed the edge of the road and contributed to his misfortune. Stomping petulantly, grumbling about time and manual labor, he leaned over to reach for the center of the tire with his left hand, while using the right middle finger to keep his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Perhaps that habitual gesture obscured just enough of his peripheral vision that he didn't detect the movement. Excruciating pain shot through his left arm- dead center and two inches below the crease of his elbow, and then again on the inside of his left thigh. He rolled to the left, away from the unseen assailant as the supporting left leg collapsed. He never heard the rattle; never saw that movement until it was too late. The fall knocked the wind out of him; his racing heart and mind registered the danger… as the burning sensation increased and seemed to travel to his shoulder. "Must have hit the vein or artery," he mused in abstraction as he froze, fearing another strike. Mojave Rattler venom was a neurotoxin, more dangerous than that of its relative the Western Diamondback. Mojave bites, usually painless, lulled one into a false sense of security. But the Western Diamondback bite was excruciating and dangerous in its own right.

Finally he resumed control of his shallow breathing, trying to assess the danger while lying unnaturally still in an uncomfortable position. Desert Survival First Aid flashed through his mind as he considered his situation. "Keep the patient calm, the affected extremity below the level of the heart. Avoid unnecessary exertion, treat for shock, and get patient to a doctor immediately." Well that was going to be a problem. Here he was a good 20 feet from the road, with a slightly uphill climb over some rough terrain with a cell phone in a dead zone and a disabled vehicle. The rattler had probably moved away, attacking because of the thunderous vibrations of a bouncing tire and his careless stomping. But… he wasn't sure enough to venture a movement. Slowly regulating his breathing, he was aware of the toxic sensations coursing through his body as the venom disrupted cell and platelet function. He felt an ache in the underarm lymph nodes starting.

On his back, gazing up at the star-filled sky, he tried to make himself more comfortable with a minimum of movement as he contemplated his options. They were limited. At worst, the toxin could kill him if left untreated for more than twelve hours. If he tried to move closer to the road, exertion would decrease that time, and he still couldn't drive. Susan and Jeff had left ahead of him. Would someone else come by in time? The short cut was well used, but the frequency of travelers at this time of night was an unknown.

When he was 5 minutes late, he knew Catherine would try his cell. By ten minutes, Sara would probably try it too. Maybe she would be concerned enough by the time he was 15 minutes late to call Jay or Susan. They would realize something was wrong and send out a search party if he was more than a half-hour late without calling. That scenario was a long shot, not to mention the likelihood of anyone thinking he'd be taking this road.

A rubbery metallic taste and sense of constriction by shirt sleeve and pant leg confirmed that the swelling of the bite zones in the extremities was already underway. He examined his emotions. Sara's image filled his mind, as he faced the very real possibility of never seeing her again. A sense of sadness and regret brought tears to his eyes that physical pain could not- a startling realization.


	2. Chapter 2

Rock, Rattle and Roll by Stareagle Chapter 2 

The lights were off in Grissom's office, the door closed. Catherine double-checked her watch as Sara came down the hall with a puzzled look. "No one's seen him, Cath," Sara said.

"He was so excited to be doing fieldwork…"

"Like Lindsey on a field trip to the mall!" Catherine finished with a smirk.

Sara smiled. "Still, he did say he'd be back before shift to show me the data. We were trying to figure out what vectors imported this colony and the likelihood of their spread to Vegas or if there is an intentional pattern to the distribution. I had some statistical models to run by him."

"Well, let's call Susan and see if she is back yet. Maybe they got to talking and forgot the time."

"Gee, Sara, Gil left right after I did, about 8PM. He was going to take the 147 to Vegas, but I had a stop to make in Las Vegas City before going home, so I went south. He should have been back there awhile ago."

"Was he having car trouble?"

"Not that I know of. He was rather pleased with the data and samples he gathered today. He didn't mention any car trouble. And Jay was going to email the LD50 data when he got back to Reno. Gil was very concerned about the impact this strain could have on people. It is definitely more dangerous."

"Well, thanks, Susan. I'm sure he's okay, probably had to run some errands or change after being out all day and forgot to charge his cell!"

"Okay, nice talking to you, Sara. Bye"

Catherine looked at the deepening worry lines on Sara's face. Sara punched Archie's extension. "Archie, this is Sara, I need a favor. Can you give me the location for Gil's Denali? He may have had car trouble on his way back from a field site. He's overdue."

"Sure thing, Sara – give me a sec and I'll page you when I've got it."

"Thanks, Archie."

"I'll pass out the assignments so we don't get too far behind." Catherine went to reception to get the night's cases while Sara headed to the break room. Greg, Nick and Warrick were joking around when she arrived.

"Hey Sara! Did crime take a holiday in Vegas tonight?"

"No Grissom scared it off," quipped Greg.

"No Grissom yet?" queried Nick.

"No such luck, War! Catherine's getting our assignments as we speak," replied Sara.

"I didn't know Gris had the night off. It's not on the schedule," remarked Greg, miffed because he'd been denied days off. The lab was short-handed and he had been pulling some duty in the DNA lab too.

"He doesn't have it off. He's late…" Sara started.

"Grissom LATE?" Nick interjected.

"Not in this lifetime," piped Warrick with a chuckle.

Catherine entered with the slips. "Okay, fun's over. Greg, you've got the B&E over at Beekmann's Liquors. Nick, DB in the alley behind Wynn's – not good for business. Call if you need help and War will back you up. Warrick, you have a hit and run on E. Owens by Woodlawn Cemetery. I'll hold the fort till Gil gets here."

Sara's pager went off just as Catherine finished. Stepping to the phone, she dialed, "Yeah, Archie, not moving, south of the 147. Thanks, I'll call Brass and have him get the coordinates from you."

"What's that all about?" Warrick asked with a puzzled look.

"Does that have anything to do with our fearless leader?" a now-worried Greg asked.

"Yeah, Griss never made it to the 147 and the car is not moving. I'm calling Brass.

"Sara, that country is hilly with spotty radio and cell service," Warrick started.

Her fingers dialed Brass's number by rote. "Brass, this is Sara. We may have a problem… Gil is late, and Archie checked his GPS. The car is stationary, south of the 147 and should have been here by now. Can you send a uniform out to check for car trouble? …Thanks." Closing the connection and addressing her colleagues, she nodded that Brass would follow up on their concern and everyone scattered to begin their night's work.

He was beginning to feel nauseous and cold. He had taken off his jacket to get the tire out, anticipating exertion and not wanting to get sweaty and cold. But lying on the ground with only a thin shirt to ward off the cooling night air was chilling him. The effects of the bite were definitely systemic and he wondered what dying would feel like. The chill of his upper body compared to the burning heat of his leg and arm were curious contrasting sensations. An involuntary chill coursed through him creating waves of pain as the affected extremities were jarred. He had an image of thousands of fire ants, dining only on the left side of his body – truly sinister, he mused with an abstract smirk. His energy was waning and the next wave of chills caused pain so intense that he almost passed out.

Again his thoughts drifted to Sara, seeking comfort away from this cold reality. She brought warmth and light to his core, though he hid it from everyone, even himself at times. His harsh words to Catherine came back to him, about why he didn't get involved in relationships and he regretted the cruelty he had inflicted upon her. It wasn't fair to inflict his pain on others just because he sought a standard of unassailable integrity to ward off attacks by Ecklie-esque beings. He did strive to be fair. Well almost…

He hadn't been fair to Sara. Deep shame coursed through him, as toxic as the poison now flowing through his veins. How many times had he reeled her in only to cast her out, turning from the wounded look that flashed in her eyes? Maybe he was misreading the situation... projecting that she really cared for him. He couldn't allow Supervisor – Subordinate relationships to occur without damaging both of their reputations and the integrity of THE LAB. How often had he told himself that, when his heart ached with an undeniable attraction and longing? NO! I can't go there, now. "If not now, when?" an interior voice mocked. Death speaking?

The patrolman had found the disabled car. Unhooking the safety strap on his holster, he surveyed the scene from the safety of the patrol car and tried the radio. Dead zone. Scanning the scene, he noted the open back and items on the ground, the flat tire and jack. He debated getting out before reporting and opted to drive ahead a few miles to a reception point. The suspicious scene probably required backup and CSI's.

Gil's next awareness was that of the sound of a vehicle passing by, leaving him behind in the desert. He started to cry out, but the movement choked his voice with spasms of pain. Real tears this time leaked from eyes that realized the probabilities were in death's favor now. His last conscious thought was… Sara.

"Catherine, it's Brass. We may have a situation. The patrolman on the scene reports Gil's car disabled and abandoned. He's requested CSI and backup." The blood drained from Catherine's face as the implications of Brass' message processed through a cloud of emotion. "He said that the vehicle is in a dead zone for reception and he had to drive past 2 miles to get a signal. He was returning to the scene as we speak."

"So he hasn't started a search of the scene?"

"No, he wanted to report and look for sign of someone walking from the car for assistance."

"That makes sense, but if Gil was walking to the main road, he would have arrived by now, or at least been able to make cell contact when he reached the same place the officer had."

"Yeah, that worries me too. You want to meet me there or should I pick you up?"

"Sara and I will head out right now. We'll meet you there."

"I'll have dispatch relay the coordinates to your GPS."

Catherine replaced the evidence she was working with one-handedly, while paging Sara with the other. "Something's wrong," the other woman replied before Catherine even spoke.

"Yeah, meet me at the car," Catherine acknowledged, as she moved to the evidence room with her work, closing the connection.

Brass had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Hang on, Buddy," he softly spoke as his hands gripped the wheel and his foot pressed the accelerator just a bit more. Flashing lights and sirens proclaimed the urgency washing through him with a sixth sense he dreaded.

Sara was behind the wheel by the time Catherine reached the car. Nothing was said as she placed her kit in the back and jumped in the shotgun seat, fastening the seatbelt with a seamless motion as the door slammed shut. They were in motion as if the starter's pistol had triggered the race they subconsciously knew was on. Like Brass, their sixth-sense was tuned in to a disruption in the fabric of the universe.


	3. Chapter 3

Rock, Rattle and Roll by Stareagle Chapter 3 

The sky was black with shimmering diamonds. "I'll take that one, please." He imagined it nestled in a woven setting as he slid it on a slender finger. "I know what to do about this, now." And then the darkness claimed him.

Officer Barnes returned to the abandoned vehicle and once again scanned the scene from the safety of his car. He exited the vehicle, flashlight in hand, approaching the car with care. He saw no sign of foul play, but noticed the disturbed soil at the edge of the road by the open stow space at the rear of the car. Playing the light around, he saw where someone had jumped and walked off the side, and what looked like imprint of an interrupted tire track. Cautiously, leaving numbers to indicate his path, he followed the tracks, keeping to the side so as not to disrupt evidence. He'd taken only about 10 steps when he saw the shape of a body, unnaturally still in the penumbra of his light. Drawing his weapon, he cautiously stepped forward scanning the area for clues. He heard the distinctive rattle and froze. A large western rattler was coiled and clearly pissed off. The tire propped partly against the rock served as a shelter for the reptile, only a few feet from the body he surmised to be Gil Grissom. Finding his voice, he spoke, "Don't move, if you can hear me, Dr. Grissom. There's a snake near you." There was no response and he feared that this was the reason the entomologist was delayed. He was still too far away to detect life in the silent form. Retreating carefully to the patrol car, he retrieved the snake stick that officers on desert patrol carry for just this sort of thing.

He had never had to handle such a large one before, and he hoped he would do no more harm by disturbing it. If Grissom had been bit, medical care was urgent. Returning to the scene carefully, he didn't see the snake in the same place. Fearfully his flashlight scanned the ground and his breath caught in his throat. The reptile was now curled by Dr. Grissom's left shoulder. If he moved the next bite would definitely be fatal. Reaching with the stick he attempted to draw it away from Grissom. The snake moved with lightening speed to strike at the approaching stick and he managed to snag it by the tail instead of the head, but he wasn't about to let it go. It stretched to reach up the stick toward his hand, and it took all of his courage not to drop the wand! He carefully lifted the furious reptile away from Grissom and started to walk away from the downed man.

Concentrating on footing, so he didn't stumble or meet another relative of the angry snake now coiled on his rod, he moved slowly to the road where his patrol car waited. If he could trap the specimen, Dr. Grissom's chances of survival would improve because the potency of anti-venom could be more precisely estimated. Reaching the highway, he carefully crossed to his vehicle and extracted the cage he kept for this purpose in the cargo bay of his patrol car. Getting the snake in it was going to be a bummer. It took another ten minutes to secure it. Grabbing a first aid kit, he hurried back to Grissom.

His pulse was erratic, respirations labored, clearly in distress and deeply unconscious. He could see the left arm and leg distorted and discolored by swelling. Racing back to his patrol car, he hopped in to drive the 2 miles to a radio reception zone. "Dispatch, this is 297, we need air ambulance STAT … Rattlesnake victim in respiratory and possible cardiac distress, unconscious – multiple bites evident – to coordinates…."

Sarah and Catherine heard the call to Dispatch at the same time that Brass did. Synchronized motions pushed the pedal to the metal with swift intakes of air and anguished prayers directed heavenward.

Brass radioed for a tow truck to pick up Gil's Denali. Ever the cop, he couldn't overlook the possibility that this was a set-up until he talked with Gil. Coincidence… The officer said they were in a dead zone… a term not especially endearing at the moment.

Sara and Catherine had lights and sirens flashing as they wove through traffic and sped eastward toward the lake. "Do you know the cut-off they're talking about?" Catherine asked.

"No. Do you?"

"Yeah, it's not far from here…"

"Cath, do you know anyone that's…"

"They're bad; Sara, but lots of people survive them… And Gil is tough."

"Right," Sara replied softly.

The sound of sirens in the distance brought some relief to the young officer waiting for help. He had taken pictures, treating this as a crime scene, knowing it was dangerous to make assumptions. Concerned that the helicopter backwash would obliterate clues, not to mention the med team contamination of the scene, he wanted to document as much as possible even if this were just a tragic set of coincidences. He had covered Grissom with a blanket to ward off the cool night air, but he was afraid to touch him in any other way. Even though blood was soaking the areas of the bites, applying direct pressure was contraindicated in bites. He said a prayer for the man and his family, hoping the rescue squad made it in time.

The "wop, wop, wop" of chopper blades in the distance were welcome sounds in the dark night. He had lights on in both vehicles so the pilot had a better view of the terrain. Strategically placed flairs indicated Grissom's position and a potential landing zone. The medics were racing to them with a stretcher when he held up his hand, reminding them to watch their step. The night belonged to the rattlers- nocturnal predators of the desert and he was still shaken by what he had seen and the snake he had handled. Slowing strides in instant acknowledgement, the medics slowly approached the fallen man. "I have the snake in the carrier- I'll bring it to the copter."

The medic nodded in acknowledgement as he felt for vital signs. His partner started an IV, and then lifted the blanket further to view the two bite sites. Slicing the now tight fabric away from the limbs, the blood oozed more freely from the wounds. Mottling and red striate were now evident. Their patient was deeply unconscious, showing signs of respiratory depression and circulatory compromise. Quickly fastening the O2 mask to his face, both medics prepared to lift him to the stretcher. In less than a minute more, they were one the way back to the chopper with their patient. Settling him in to the bunk, they recovered the carrier with the agitated rattler and simultaneously shivered with the realization of the enormity of this man's danger. A moment later squad cars and a CSI vehicle skidded to a halt, as the doors were closed and the chopper was lifting off. The brunette was running almost before the vehicle stopped. "Is he? …"

Nodding affirmative, he spoke, "it's real bad, not a second to lose now." He watched her deflate like the tire that started this whole chain of events… Her shoulders heaved with three gasping intakes of air, and then a mask slid into place. The professional was now in charge.

He began his report as a blonde CSI and Captain Brass joined them. "I've taken pictures of the scene, imprints and preserved as much of the evidence as possible before the medics arrived. I recovered the snake and it's on its way with the patient in the carrier. There was no visible sign of foul play but I treated this as a crime scene just in case…" his voice trailed off as he registered the unshed tears in 3 pairs of eyes before him. "He was bitten twice, once on the arm," he pointed to the location on his own arm, "and once on the inner thigh," pointing again. "He's alive; they gave him oxygen and started an IV."

Nodding in appreciation of his thoroughness, the blonde spoke first, "Thank you for all you did."

"Good work, Barnes," assented the Captain with a nod toward the scene. "Thank you," he commended with a trace of the emotion that escaped his control, coloring his voice. The brunette nodded, chewing her lower lip. They turned and walked back to the scene to perform their duties, silently coping with the unknown fate of their friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Rock, Rattle and Roll by Stareagle Chapter 4 

The medical team was assembled in the ER, a silent tableau with several vials of CroFab waiting for their patient and a tray of fine needles, the only unusual item in the contemporary western medical setting. In the next second, the static scene was transformed. "CBC, Coag profile, electrolytes, BUN, creatinine, and UA, STAT," barked the tall dark-haired physician at the head of the table. A technician was attaching the cardiac monitor, while another drew blood for blood typing and cross matching, and a third was setting up the EEG. A fourth removed what little clothing was left on the patient. The slim, Asian doctor began to methodically insert needles at precise acupuncture sites to control the already considerable swelling, praying that a fasciotomy could be avoided. The EEG registered the impact of his technique by the time the needles were in place. The tall doctor began the infusion of CroFab. All eyes were on the monitors as the waiting game began.

Sara had retrieved Grissom's data and samples from the day's fieldwork and placed them in her Denali. Grissom's vehicle was on the flat bed, covered for transport and analysis back to the lab. Catherine had gone over Barne's work and commended him again for his professionalism and quick thinking. The man would make a fine detective some day. Their job at the scene complete, the urgency to return to the lab and the hospital remained. Swiftly both women were in their seats, buckling belts and in motion, as smoothly as a synchronized swim team. The silence was punctuated by the static of dispatch when the radio reception returned 2 miles down the road.

The minutes had not passed idly in the ER. Their patient's respiratory function had been stressed, necessitating intubation. Infusion rates had to be adjusted and the severity of bruising monitored. A portable x-ray revealed congestion in the lungs, and a broken index finger on the right hand. Loosely splinted incase swelling continued to the other extremities, the waiting continued.

All was secure at the lab. The rest of the team had returned; some day shift had come in early so the entire graveyard shift could focus on Grissom. Warrick and Nick were going over the Denali with a fine-toothed comb. Catherine was processing prints, Greg and Sara going through Grissom's data. Nick was processing the flat tire when he exclaimed, "Holy smoke, War, look at this!" Three headless nails were embedded in the tread of the tire, and as he spun it 90 degrees, three more came into view. Warrick quickly strode to the left rear tire, spinning it slowly and spotted the same pattern. Each man walking to opposite front tires found the same thing. Eyes meeting in front of the grille, Nick was first to reach for his cell and call Brass. "We've got a problem."

Every car in the motor pool was checked. No others had nails in tires. The pattern was too precise to be random and chills coursed through every CSI and cop in the building. What had happened to Grissom may have been an accident, but another had been planned. An armed guard was now in place at the hospital, Grissom still in ER and alive. Sara and Brass were on their way to the hospital… both determined that Grissom was not to be left alone, but for different reasons.

"He is deeply unconscious, bordering coma. The venom was systemic almost immediately and has caused hemorrhages all over the body. Bruising will become evident in the next 24 hours and we are hoping we can minimize the surgical intervention with the acupuncture. We don't think he has had any cerebral bleeds but it is too early to tell. He is tolerating the CroFab well, which is a blessing. Having the snake that bit him was a plus. We have been able to adjust the titration rate precisely – that saved him time. I was skeptical about the acupuncture despite the article on its efficacy, it is really working and I commend Dr. Grissom's choice of physician. This is the first time I have worked with Dr. Li, and he is remarkable. Your friend has been very fortunate so far."

"Thank you, Dr. Graham. We appreciate everything your team is doing." Brass replied for the both of them. He wasn't sure Sara could even find her voice, much less remain standing if she continued to pale even more than she normally was as the doctor spoke. "He's strong and he's still with us," he murmured as he gently touched her arm and guided her to a blessedly empty waiting room of chairs. She nodded and sat stiffly while he went to talk to the officer standing guard at the door.

She had managed to do a quick net search on rattlesnake bites before coming over, and knew that Dr. Graham was tending to the optimistic. She'd seen the degree of surgical intervention necessary to rehabilitate limbs after necrosis and internally grimaced at the images of painful therapy and skin grafts that haunted her mind. "God, Griss… you of all people don't deserve this." His passionately guarded privacy would be shattered by examinations and probing fingers, his pain exposed to perceptive eyes… recuperation for Gil Grissom would be debilitating from exposure. She silently wept for the man she loved.

Would he let her in or push her even further away. Maybe it was no longer his option. Maybe he would have to accept help, even hers to survive this. Maybe she would have the courage to find her voice with him.

Dr. Graham had observed the silent exchange between the Captain and the CSI, interpreting the pain shielded in the brown eyes. He had delivered enough bad news to loved ones to recognize the depth of emotion she concealed with her stiff posture and clenched jaw. Stepping forward involuntarily, he touched her shoulder and spoke; "It might help him to have a friend in there. I don't know why acupuncture does what it does and I don't pretend to understand ESP, but I have witnessed the peace that contact brings, often enough to know it cannot be discounted for lack of scientific evidence. If you're up to it, would you like to see him for a few minutes?"

Startled eyes revealed the gratitude her voice could not articulate. She nodded and stood, as color and purpose returned to her countenance. "Thank you," she murmured, standing taller and accompanying the doctor to the surgical ICU.

Brass relaxed.


	5. Chapter 5

Rock, Rattle and Roll by Stareagle Chapter 5 

Dr. Graham handed her a gown to put over her clothes. "Infection is a very real possibility. Put this on, slip the booties over your shoes, and wash up over there, we will be isolating him, and need to be prepared to move into surgery on a moment's notice..."

Entering the room where Grissom lay was worse than any scene in the morgue. His complexion was patriotic: beet red in places, pasty white in others and darkening deep blue, bruising where the venom was killing cells. Intubated and wired for monitors, with multiple IV perfusions, Grissom looked like cyborg from Star Trek. Dr. Lee complimented the alien image as he twirled slender needles, moving from arm to leg to trunk on the left side. Glancing up at Dr. Graham, he studied the newcomer as introductions were made.

"This is Sara Sidle, a colleague and close friend of Dr. Grissom; she will be staying with him for a time," Dr. Graham stated. Nodding at Dr. Li, he continued, "Miss Sidle, this is Dr. Lee, Grissom's personal physician."

"Sara, please," she murmured.

"Sara, come up to the right side at the head of the table," Dr. Li directed moving to meet her. Place your left hand along side his face while I adjust the position of your fingers. You will be providing energy to these points, and he will be aware of your presence." Tracing an invisible route, pointing from her head to her heart to her hand, he drew her closer to the table.

Solemnly she placed her hand as indicated and was aware of the subtle current that coursed through her body any time she came in accidental contact with Grissom. Not only was the sensation familiarly electric, it seemed to communicate her deep desire for his well-being, and her love. Glancing at the EEG, Dr. Li nodded and moved one of his needles to a new location. "Very good," he stated. One of the techs slid a stool behind Sara so she could sit comfortably while maintaining her position. He placed Sara's right hand in a position to cradle Grissom's head on the other side, her middle fingers just above his ears, her little finger in the hair above the temple and the thumb and index finger equally spaced in the back of the skull. Satisfied, he stepped back, smiled and said, "You guard his mind from fear and strengthen his chi."

Sara was infused with a deep sense of relief to be able to help Grissom, even if she didn't know if she believed it would really help. Dr Li projected an attitude of respect bordering reverence, as he continued his ministrations, filling the small space they occupied with peace and confidence.

Six hours and 15 doses of anti-venom later, the doctors were concerned about the degree of edema in the left arm. Lab tests showed the severity of his reaction to the toxin stressing vital organs. His left thigh was now twice its normal size and the lymph nodes under his arm and in the groin were approaching the circumference of golf balls. Officially he was now in a coma. Despite the gravity of the situation, Dr Li remained an island of calm in a sea of tension. He motioned Dr. Graham aside. Though Sara's concentration was totally focused on Grissom, she was peripherally aware of the conference going on. Dr. Graham left the room. Leaning closer to Grissom's ear, she softly spoke, "Don't leave us Gil, we need you… I need you." Resting her head next to his, she murmured, "You are loved…. you know?"

"Keep talking to him. The sound of your voice will be heard and stored in the unconscious mind. He has turned inward to protect himself. Eventually what you have said will reach him."

Startled, she was momentarily at a loss for words, and wondered if her declaration of love earlier had driven him further away. Illogically, she feared her presence was having a deleterious effect, and withdrew her hands from contact. "I have to … excuse me, I have to use the bathroom." She stumbled in her haste to get out of the room deliberately hiding her face from Dr. Li's penetrating eyes.

Locking herself in the bathroom, she sat down on the seat and shuddered with bottled up emotions. Hugging her middle, the tears escaped, coursing down her cheeks, unwelcome rivers of suppressed grief and fear. She lost track of time in her emotional and physical exhaustion until startled by a soft knock on the door. Fear clenched her heart and she sprang to open the door.

"You okay? You've been in there for awhile and the doctor was concerned." Jim Brass studied the woman before him interpreting the signs of stress before him.

"Sara, time to get some sleep. Nick is going to stay with him while we get some rest. Catherine is coming in after Lindsey is off to school. Nick and Warrick found some evidence that we need to go through." Sara's head jerked up in shock.

"Evidence?"

"There were nails in the tires. He was bound to have a flat, multiple flats. Had it happened at highway speeds, it might have been much worse."

"Worse? Worse? Than this?" The question hung in the air.

"Sara, he needs us to do our jobs, and take care of each other. Come on."

Nick stepped up behind Brass and spoke. "Archie is going through the surveillance tapes at the garage, Hodges is running the metals analysis and Greg and Nina are working on the prints we lifted from the tires and car. Warrick's gone home for a few hours. We got it covered, Sara."

"I am going to the lab to see the evidence. I need to know who did this."

"Sara, you need to rest and give the lab rats time to process the evidence." Nick faced Sara with intensity.

Nodding toward Grissom, "Stay with him." Reluctantly, Sara let Brass guide her from the room.

Six hours later, Sara returned to the hospital to find Catherine wringing her hands in the waiting room. "Catherine! What's happened?" exclaimed Sara observing the tension in the other woman.

"The doctors are in with him now. After 17 hours of treatment, Grissom's condition hasn't improved the way it should. He got worse after you left. They're talking about surgery to relieve the swelling and started some antibiotics to prevent infection."

Sara's stomach lurched at the memory of images of faciotomies she had studied on the web. Often skin grafts and months of painful physical therapy were needed to restore function to disabled limbs. "Oh Griss," she groaned and sank into the unyielding seat of a nearby chair. "Why didn't you call me when he got worse?"

"Did you get any rest?" replied Catherine, ignoring Sara's question.

"I went over the evidence at the lab and made sure the samples Grissom collected were stored properly. Greg's gonna run DNA on the fire ant strain Grissom had recovered from his field trip. We were going to compare this strain to the ones recovered from that golf course and the roadside where the family dog was injured. Trace hasn't been able to get anything from the nails, but it is clear that his vehicle was deliberately tampered with."

"Now that you are here, I'm going to get some sleep and then go to the lab," Catherine stated firmly. "Take good care of him."

Sara donned a gown and returned to Grissom's side. Dr. Li nodded and motioned Sara to the left side of the bed. This time he placed Sara's right hand over the inside of Grissom's right wrist, and the fingers of her left hand in specific places on the right side of his head and face. "He will get better now. He responds to your presence," he continued pointing at the monitor. "Talk to him and you will see the brain waves respond even if he cannot show it now; he tunes into your chi." He left the two of them in the room.

Like a doe caught in the glare of a flashlight, Sara stared wide-eyed at the hand positioned on Grissom's face. The intimacy of the touch was seared in her soul and she would normally have never dared such contact. Her mind stretched to contact his.

"Uhh… Griss, we're all worried about you. I don't know if anyone told you, but the whole lab is working to find out what happened to lead to this." She imagined his raised eyebrow, the prompt to go on with a theory or new piece of data. Work was a safe topic.

"Brass thinks the flat tire was a set up. Someone tampered with your car and probably intended for you to have an accident at high speeds in traffic. Greg found sets of foreign prints on the panels by all four tires but no match on AFIS. The nails embedded in the flat tire penetrated fully when it hit the wash, leading to the flat you had."

"The rattlesnake thing was just bad luck."

" War says he's gonna give you lessons in tire changing when you get back. He figures you dropped the spare and it rebounded breaking your finger." Absently she stroked his right hand with tenderness as she continued, "I bet that hurt and really pissed you off. From the tracks you left, it looks like you went stomping off road to retrieve it." She smiled as the image of a petulant Grissom came to mind, carelessly yielding to emotion.

Tears coursed down her cheeks. "You know, you're going to need help. You can be pain in the ass proud sometimes… but this time… you're going to have to swallow it. It'll be easier once the tubes are out of your throat," she jokingly mused. Without realizing it, she gently stroked his neck and face. "It really helps us cope with this – if you let us help you, Griss. We are all really worried about you."

She sat up at the sound of the handle turning in the door. The nurse came back to check the IV drip and measure the degree of swelling. Her countenance registered satisfaction at Sara's curious but silent interrogation. "I'm not the doctor, but it's a good sign that the swelling seems to be leveling off. And his O2 levels are rising." The nurse retreated from the room.

Sara released the breath she'd been holding and smiled gratefully at Grissom. "Good news- just hang in there, Griss." A comfortable silence filled the room.

The next time she was aware of anyone else but the two of them was when Greg entered the room. "Sara, time for you to get something to eat before shift. My turn now with Grissom-watch," he continued, anticipating rejection.

As much as she hated it, she acknowledged the truth of his words and turned back to Grissom. "Greg's here, Griss. Now remember what I told you about your pride. Come back to us," she murmured stiffly rising from the chair. She didn't remember folding herself like a pretzel in order to be close to him. She smiled at Greg, "Thanks, I'll stop back after shift. Will you be here the whole time?

"No, I pulled a double and Ecklie sent Nick and Warrick home too. He's pulled Mimi and Gary from swing and Peggy from days is going to do a double in the lab for us. Catherine will be on with you and Brass tonight. Doc Robbins and his wife are coming in to take my place with him.

Sara nodded in acknowledgement, looked once more at the silent figure on the bed and stepped aside so that Greg could assume her seat. "Doctor Li said to place your hand where I had mine, over his face and wrist. To let him know we are here supporting his chi."

"Right," replied Greg, a little nervous at the thought of touching the person who controlled his professional fate and he had elevated to the status to that of slightly less than God!

With his hand hovering over the place Sara's hand had just vacated, he softly said, "Hey Grissom, it's me, Greg…. the doctor… Sara… they say this will help you, so I'm gonna reach out now…" He too experienced an electricity of a different sort than Sara's. Satisfied Sara half-smiled at both men and left the room.

The silence filled the room as Greg awkwardly at first, became in tune with this contact with Grissom. "You know, Grissom… I, uh, owe so much to you. I learn from you and you scare me to death! You know, when I screw up, I just want to shrivel up and hide, but I just get goofier. But I want you to know that I'm going to help find the bastard who did this to you Grissom. You probably think you did this to yourself, and you'd be partly right. But someone tampered with your tires. I've been through so many photos in CODIS. No match to the ones left behind on your car. And that makes them more suspicious…" In typical Greg fashion, he rambled on keeping up a lively one-sided conversation, comfortable in the presence of his friend.

Sara entered the lab, early for her shift carrying the Veggie-lover's sub in her hand. She heard Brass' deep voice coming from the corridor. Turning the corner, they came face to face, his cell phone jammed to his ear. He grabbed her arm with his free hand. "Get your kit and follow me. A volunteer at Desert Palms opened a floral delivery for Gil that was filled with a colony of fire ants. She's in the ER and there's chaos at the hospital. We're going on an ant round up! Pausing with the flow of information to hit a new number, he barked orders to double the guard on Grissom and for guards to be posted by evidence storage and the CSI labs. As they passed the reception desk, he softly stated, "Judy, don't open any packages delivered to the lab. Deliver them to containment and wait till I get back in touch with you."

_** A/N I forgot to mention a disclaimer that applies to the preceding chapters and those to come. The characters from CSI are not mine! I derive no monetary profit from this work of fiction. Also, no characters mentioned here are intended to reflect upon people in real life or government positions. **_

_**I am especially thankful to lostladyknight who answered my SOS and guided me through the process of posting to site. Thank you also to sugarxcouture who also responded to my SOS! Your kindness is appreciated and I hope you enjoy the story. **_

_**Finally, ever the scientist, I would like to share what I have learned from stats and reviews so far. **_

_**I was stunned that words I penned reached hundreds of people in 6 hours. It's mind-boggling!**_

_**Reviews are incredibly energizing and helpful! I will definitely make more of an effort to contact other authors and let them know how much I appreciate their work.**_

_**I discovered that my first 3 chapters would have been better off posted as one. I lost at significant number of readers after chapter 1 who did not return for 2 and 3. I suspect chapter 1 on its own was not strong enough to hold their interest.**_

_**Comments about the pace of plot revelation and authenticity of characters reassure me that I am on the right track and prompt me to reexamine story development.**_

_**While I have done some background research on the treatment of snakebites and entomology, please realize this is a work of fiction and I am not a doctor or an entomologist!!!**_

_**Thank you again to all who have reviewed. I will reply to each of you as time permits. stareagle**_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Brass broke speed records on his way to the hospital. Al and his wife had arrived minutes before and he greeted them at the door. "Have I told you how much I hate fire ants?"

"What's the situation Al?"

"The good news is that an orderly grabbed a fire extinguisher and contained the colony. I don't know if you are going to find any live ones in there, Sara." Noting her grimace, he continued, "The good news is that no one has reentered the room to contaminate the scene, the receptionist is being treated for the bites and shock … she'll be fine, by the way, and the packaging is intact inside.

Snapping on her latex gloves, and picking up her kit, Sara entered the room scanning the floor for any ants that might have survived the blast of cold from the extinguisher. Approaching the desk carefully, she saw the wrapping and flower bouquet covered in fine particles of white dust and reddish black dots – the shriveled bodies of fire ants. Suppressing a shudder, she began to collect evidence. A slight motion in the periphery of her vision grabbed her attention and she successfully captured a survivor. Moving the bouquet with her probe, two more boldly approached the direction of the probes movement instead of running away. Momentarily fascinated that these tiny creatures showed no fear, genetically programmed to attack moving objects, she quickly added them to containers for transport back to the lab and comparison with the samples Grissom had collected earlier in the day.

Greg was surprised to see Brass and the Robbins come into the room together. Startled, he stepped away from the bed and contact with Grissom. At a glance, he knew something had happened. Brass fired a question before he could speak.

"Is everything ok in here?"

"Yeah, what's going on?"

"Someone sent Gil fire ants as a get well gift. Has anything or anyone tried to see him or send something in?"

"Not while I have been here. The nurse said he was stabilizing but still in the coma."

Al Roberts had stepped closer to the bed and was inspecting the swelling and mottling of the skin. Noting the acupuncture needles, he nodded his head thoughtfully and asked, "Have you met Dr. Lee yet?"

"Yes, he was in an hour ago and told me to pinch his hand like this, for one minute every ten minutes. Said it would help diminish headache pain. I didn't know you could have headache pain in a coma."

"There is a lot we don't know about the human brain or comas, Greg. What Gil is going to experience in the next few weeks is going to be hideously painful. Comas may also be the body's way of preparing and protecting the mind from further trauma. It has been documented that people can hear what is being spoken to them while in a coma. The mind is storing that information, even if Gil can't respond to it or us at the present time. That is why everything that is said in this room must contribute to his well-being…" emphasized Al while sternly looking at Brass.

Brass glanced at Gil and back to Al, nodding that he got the point. Excusing himself from the room, he turned to confer with the double guard outside the door. Meanwhile, Greg stepped back to the bedside, to show Al where to apply pressure as the heart monitor measured time in heartbeats.

Sara had finished collecting the evidence from the reception area, and was on her cell trying to find out if the hospital security cameras recorded the delivery of the package. The reality that someone was targeting Grissom had rattled her composure as she waited on hold. Brass' entrance into the room startled her. He noted it and reassured her that everything was okay upstairs. Greg joined them a moment later.

"Greg, can you compare ant DNA to see if these ants are from the same colony as the ones Grissom collected yesterday?"

"Yeah, I can do that, but it might take some time."

The fact that someone delivered fire ants to the hospital the day after he was in the field studying fire ants was not likely to be a coincidence. The fact that someone tampered with Grissom's tires weighed heavily on her mind. There was no evidence that the tampering occurred at the motor pool lot, so it was likely that someone did it when the car was parked, unattended while he was in the field. "Greg can you take this back to the lab for processing? I want to go to the places where Grissom parked his car that day and see if there is any evidence of tampering we might have missed."

"You got a hunch?" Brass tipped his head in inquiry.

"Yeah, I do," Sara replied as she snapped her gloves and picked up her kit.

Back at the lab, Sara settled in Grissom's office reading his field notes about the fire ants and looking at the entomology text to understand more about the species. Next she drafted letters to the Entomology departments at colleges and universities and Agricultural Agents in states south of the 40th North parallel. If she could identify the source of the strain being introduced in Nevada, perhaps it would give her a lead. She hoped they had DNA profiles of species in their states, but that was a long shot.

She had been shocked to discover how damaging fire ants could be. She knew of the nasty bite and severe reactions, about mounds and their aggressiveness. She was shocked to discover they disrupt irrigations systems, were attracted to electrical currents and could damage wiring and junction boxes. They could nest in buildings and under sidewalks, literally causing them to crumble. They'd been found in automobiles and campers, threatening recreational facilities and damaging crops. Not usually found in Nevada, it was clear someone was intentionally introducing them to the area around Vegas. But to what purpose? Perhaps the why of the attack on Grissom had to do with his ability to discover that purpose?

By 6 am, she had decided to go to the site where Grissom had done his field work

"Hi Susan. Thanks for meeting me here. Can you show me where Grissom parked his car yesterday?"

"Right over there," she replied, pointing to the spot. I was parked next to him on this side and Jay was on the other side of Gil's car."

"Were there any other cars in the lot while you were here?"

"Not that I recall, no. But we were quite far away from the cars for several hours.

Sara studied the scene with a critical eye. The wind had wiped away the details of tire impressions, but she could faintly see where the cars had been parked. Then she began a search of the lot as a whole looking for anything unnatural that might be useful. She picked up some cigarette butts and paper and plastic litter. "Do you or Jay smoke?"

"No, definitely not," Susan replied.

Locking the evidence in her kit, Sara asked Susan to lead the way that they had traveled the day before. Though she scanned both sides of the path as well as the path itself, there was nothing else to find.

_**A/N: Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and CSI is not mine… dang it! Thank you to all who have written reviews and read this.**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Rock, Rattle and Roll**

**Chapter 7**

Sara pulled into the lab parking lot at noon to drop off the evidence she had collected before returning to the hospital. As she hurried down the hall, she hoped she could get in and out without delay. No such luck.

"Sidle!"

"Yes, Ecklie" She replied in the same tone.

"You are not above the law!

"Excuse me?"

"There are Federal Laws this lab is subject to. Not only are you racking up more overtime than is humanly advisable, you aren't clocking out for breaks. The lab can get some pretty stiff fines for this. I'm not going to cover for you like… Well, go home. You're off tonight and for the next 24 hours."

"Are you serious?"

"This would not be a good time to get suspended for insubordination, when I'm already down one graveyard shift CSI."

Spinning on her heel, biting her tongue and clenching her fists at her side, Sara continued on her way out of the lab, fuming.

Stepping from the nearby doorway, Brass nodded, "Thank you, Conrad."

"Anytime, Capt."

"Hi Nick… Any news?"

"He's holding his own after the surgery this morning, and the nurse said the swelling is going down now. The surgeon is coming back this afternoon.

"What about the surgery?"

"The doctor said the tissue at the site of the bite is necrotizing, and has to be removed, similar to what would be done for burn patients. Dr Li asked them to wait a few more hours to see how much more the swelling will go down before they do any more surgery for the swelling... He should be back in 30 minutes to take more measurements."

Nick moved from the bedside to give Sara access, while he continued to talk, "Has anything else turned up on the case?"

"Not that I am aware of."

"Did you get any rest?"

Sara glared at him in response.

"Sara, why was Grissom involved in the fire ant survey, in the first place? I mean it wasn't a criminal case, was it?

"No, Jay and Susan had received several reports of a more aggressive strain of fire ants in this county. A family had stopped by the roadside so their child could have a bathroom break, and he got to close to a fire ant mound. He was bitten pretty severely, and in the process, the family dog was also attacked and died."

"Whoa, seriously?"

"Yeah, and then several golf courses and mini golf courses reported infestations of fire ants that are not native to this area. Jay contacted Grissom, who just can't refuse a good bug hunt," Sara smiled at Grissom as she said this and then continued, "He was trying to figure out what vectors could account for the distribution. At one point in their life cycle, fire ants are winged and will leave the original colony to start a new one. But they are not usually found in arid climates or this type of soil. How could they successfully colonize in so many diverse locations under such unfavorable conditions? We were comparing local winds, traffic patterns, and precipitation to see if we could figure out the distribution. Grissom was also trying to establish the stage of colony development, so the colony could be destroyed before the winged ants hatch."

"So why go after Grissom by sabotaging his car and sending him "get well" fire ants?"

"I don't know, Nick. It doesn't make sense to me yet."

"Well how many fire ant infestations are we talking about here?"

"About half a dozen that we know of… Two were major mounds, others were smaller."

"Would people ordinarily report run-ins with fire ants?" Nick asked.

"I don't think so. It's not like mandatory reporting of certain diseases!" replied Sara in a humorous tone of voice.

"How do they get rid of them if they are so numerous?" Nick mused.

"Probably call an exterminator, I guess. They are pretty dangerous and I think there are special ways to treat them. It is not like grabbing a can of Raid or ant bait that is going to stop them." Sara continued, "Susan said the exterminator was going to destroy the colony Griss was studying, this afternoon."

"Ugh! Just thinking about those suckers creeps me out!" Nick shivered. "Take care of yourself, Sara. I need to grab a few hours of shut-eye before shift tonight. Brass said he'd be by at five to stay with Griss for awhile."

Sara nodded as she turned her focus to Grissom. He definitely looked better even though she had only been gone a few hours.

Fatigue was catching up to her as she pulled the chair closer to the bed and placed her hands on the places Dr. Li had suggested before. She studied his face, and then the swelling on his arm. The monitors showed his heart beat and respirations to be steady. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered, "I'm sort of glad you are not awake for this. I know you might be hearing what we say, but I sure hope you can't feel any pain. .. God Griss, the swelling looks … "She was going to say awful, but then what Doc Robbins told Greg about being positive came to mind. "… It looks better, but I bet it would, ah, hurt. You're going to have some pretty impressive scars, though no one will see the one on your thigh…" She blushed to think that Grissom might have someone looking at that one.

He looked so relaxed, well as relaxed as one can look with a tube down the throat for a machine breathing for you. The skin tone of his face was normal now that the mottling was gone. She focused on the monitor again watching the cardiac rhythm recording, and noting his temperature was normal. Sara was not a religious person, but she found herself praying for Grissom's sake that infection would not complicate his recovery. Exhausted she laid her head next to his pillow while maintaining contact, her eyes closed as she listened to the whirr of machine and inhaled his scent.

Her next awareness was of the presence of Dr. Li. She noted the acupuncture needles were not in the same position as they had been upon her arrival. "Uhhh…."

"No need to apologize, Sarah, both of you are exhausted. In the time you have been here, his stress level is much reduced as is the swelling in the arm."

Sara looked again at Grissom's arms. Dr. Li placed the chart on the bed so she could see the evidence for herself. It was undeniable. The slope of the graph representing the swelling in the arm was steeper than that for the thigh injury. "Why is the thigh less responsive?"

"Well for one thing, it's a larger muscle, so the bite was localized there. The bite to the arm posed the greater danger though, because so much of the venom was absorbed systemically. It is closer to the heart. More significantly, you were focusing your chi and his on the arm. Notice the electrical conductivity data. Now it is time to do so for the leg."

He moved the sheet slightly. Taking her left hand, he positioned her fingers on the corresponding site of the leg wound. The right hand he positioned on femoral pulse point just below the groin. Project your chi to increase the circulation in the legs for the next half hour. Imagine the blood bathing the injured tissue and washing the toxins away." He adjusted the position of some of the needles which had wires attached to them. "We are electrical beings, he spoke softly, and sometimes the flow of energy needs alternate paths to do the most good."

If someone had told Sara she would be assisting in an almost mystical form of treatment, her rational scientific mind would have had nothing to do with it. But this was Grissom. His open mind had accepted Dr. Li's science and she respected his choice. Even in a coma, Grissom was a teacher. Sara couldn't imagine not participating in such a healing technique if it would help Grissom. The transfer of energy was tangible to her- increasing her belief.

A half hour later, Dr. Li's technique appeared more western to her. He measured skin temperatures, electrical conductivity, and the diameter of each limb at half inch intervals above and below the wounds. As he plotted the points, the data was indisputable. "Sara, you are going to take a break now. It is time for you to rest and conserve your energy. We will apply one more treatment before his surgery at 3 pm."

As if on cue, a nurse entered the room with a cot, pillow, and light blanket. Placing it near the bed, Dr. Li guided her to it and encouraged her to lie down. Adjusting the bed close enough so she could reach comfortably, he placed her hand on Grissom's and dimmed the lights. Just before he left the room, he spoke, "Lead him into slumber," and the door closed silently.

_**A/N. I am humbled by the number of hits to this story and the encouraging reviews. Thank you for your support. I hope you like the direction this chapter went. I was concerned there was too much fact, but then again, one of the joys of CSI for me is learning new factoids. I just couldn't resist- it's the teacher gene, I guess! I wonder if anyone out there has figured out what the criminal's intent is. There are many clues in this chapter, and Nick will have a breakthrough in the next. I hope you got a chuckle out of Conrad being Conrad as well as a surprise that he might consent to being in cahoots with Brass to get a certain CSI to rest!**_


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